Australia
by AmiiLouu
Summary: Australia *the Movie* turned into a story. Explanation and disclaimer inside. !CONTAINS SPOILERS!
1. Chapter 1

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own, nor do I claim to own the plot line, characters or anything else regarding _Australia._ All ownership belongs to **Baz Lurhmann **and **20****th**** Century Fox. **I own nothing.

::A/N:: Ok, so I have only recently seen this film, and I fell in love with it. Its such a beautiful movie. And I thought to myself "Hey, what would it be like if it was written as a story?" So after many hours of watching and studying the actor's mannerisms, I decided to start typing. Sad I know, but who hasn't got this involved in a film? So here it is. Translation of the Aboriginal Native Tongue will be at the end of the chapter. Reviews are always welcome. Helpful criticism is also welcome. Thanks. Enjoy.

Nullah's narration – _Italics_.

Aboriginal native tongue – Spelt how I think it sounds.

Word count – 1247 ~Not including A/N's~

--

**Australia. **

**Chapter 1.**

**After the bombing of Pearl Harbor on the 7th of December 1941, The Imperial Japanese Navy steamed south, unleashing their fire on Darwin, a city in the northern territory of Australia. **

**'The Territory' was a land of crocodiles, cattle barons and warrior chefs, where adventure and romance was a way of life. **

**It was also a place where Aboriginal children of mixed-race were taken by force from their families and trained for service in white society. **

**These children became known as The Stolen Generations. **

September 1939

Early morning creatures stirred as the great orange sun rose above the horizon. Aboriginal chanting is heard but not seen. Sunrise. The time of peace, solitude and calmness. Two silhouetted figures stand close together, one short, one tall. Throwing a Boomerang, the short one, perhaps a small child, gets the lesson of how to throw a Boomerang properly. Teaching the Aboriginal way to hunt, to survive. Failing, he re-threw the bent object. Still no success. Practice makes perfect. The taller one educating the short figure all life's lessons, all that he needs to know about what life brings, what surprises awaits him.

_My grandfather, King George, he take me walkabout. Teach me black fella way. Grandfather teach me most important lesson of all. Tell 'em story. That day I down the billabong, King George, he teach me how to catch 'em fish using magic song. _

Water splashed around the child's waist, as he stood perfectly still, ready with his two-pronged spear, ready to catch the fish, ready to eat his meal. King George's hands were deep in the cool liquid, steading the ripples and small waves that were created with the slightest movement. Soft breaths followed by a small chant hypnotized the large fish, as it slows to a halt. Captivated by the subtle noises, it doesn't expect what comes lodging in fate's corridor.

_See, I not black fella. I not white fella, either. Them white fellas call me mix blood; _

Splash! Having been stabbed straight through the body and neck, the fish was instantly shocked, yet still flapped around on the sharp pointy spear tips. Cheering, the small boy lifted the spear into the air, shook his arms and jumped.

_Half-caste; creamy. I belong no-one._

Deep, manly groans came from across the billabong. A gigantic herd of cattle were being forced to cross the waters over to the other side. Turning, the small boy's face dropped. The water droplets fell from the fish onto his head, face, back, but he didn't care, he was too preoccupied with what was going on with that herd. Whips cracked. Water splashed. Cows cried but continued to move.

_That day I see 'em, them white fellas, they were pushing them cheeky bulls across the river onto Carney land. _

The boy was in a trance. Nothing could snap him out of it. That is, until King George grabbed the two-pronged spear tightly in his fist.

"Whya kiana weana unakapri." (1)

He gasped for breath as King George wandered off, leaving the small boy to disappear. Become invisible. He sunk to the bottom of the lake bed, cheeks puffed full of air, eyes wide, fingers glasped tightly round his nostrils, continuously on the search of change.

_King George angry at them white fellas. King George say them white fella bad spirit. Must be taken from this land. _

The water has been disturbed. A lifeless body flung carelessly into the water almost hit the small child, and floated above him, bubbles patterning his facial features, eyes loosely open. Lying completely still, the boy dared not move, for fear the lifeless body would move and grab him. It floated silently away, and showed the spear that had been lodged through his chest. The bubbles rose to the waters edge, but the body did not. Red. Blood. It spread like wildfire in a forest, covering any clear water it possessed. Thickening the fresh lake water to an intoxicating iron smog. A deep rumble echoed through the water, as a crocodile skin boot steadied itself on the stones, sprinkling dust particles in all different directions. The lifeless body was pulled from the water, and disappeared. Unable to hold on any longer, the boy emerged from the waters, blinking the murky liquid from his eyes.

A horse. A lone horse, deep in water and scared. It kicked and wailed to be free. The boy chanted and sung softly and calmly to the creature, much like the fish, tempting it to trust him. Emerging closer to the boys outstretched hand, the horse stood still, and allowed the boy to hop on its back. Struggling to get free of the water, it slowly grasped a groove that worked and was a prisoner no more. Quickly and quietly, the boy and the horse rode away almost all day; the boy wanted nothing more than to reach his destination, his sanctuary. The dust gathered behind the horse as he galloped fast and true, obeying any command the boy gave him.

Passing high mountains and scorching temperatures, the boy finally arrived at the one place he really wanted to be. Hot and covered in sweat, the boy halted the horse, looking out to the distance. For in the middle of no where, the heat waves engulfed the ground, rising towards the burning sun, was a car, covered in dust and material from who-knows-where, slowly driving towards where he was. The boy descended from the horse and grabbed the reins. Slowly, he turned to look again at the small car which had gown larger and much closer in the passing time.

"Coppers." he whispered, fear strung to every breath.

_Them coppers come take me away! They want to put me on that Mission Island. _

The gate he pushed to get through read Faraway Downs; with the W and the O missing. He ran. Slowly disappearing into the grey mist that enveloped around the large house. Jumping the fence, h ran still towards the water tank on the other side of the yard. King George guided him, telling him it was safe in there.

_Make me into a white fella. _

He climbed the tall and hot wooden ladder, looked back to see if the coppers had spotted him. He was safe.

_But they're not coppers. _

In the distance, he hears the horse panicking and galloping around frustrated at almost being run down. "Whoa, girl, whoa, whoa." came a deep yet distant voice. A man. He held a long gun in one hand, stretched almost to the length of his arm, the other reached out to try and steady the horse. Attempting to grab the reins and stop her before the horse fell and would hurt herself. The boy looked through a small peep hole, to check and see if it was still safe, that he hadn't been caught yet, and saw a woman.

_And that first time I saw her, that Missus Boss._

Through the tiny gap, he watched as she clambered out of the car, and walked powerfully towards the house. The dust had still not settled, so she would disappear then reappear from time to time, making her track hard to keep up with.

_The strangest woman I ever seen! She's not from this land. This land my people got many names for. But white fellas call it Australia. But this story not begin that day, this story begin a little while ago in a land far far away. That land called England. _

--

::A/N:: (1) "Make yourself invisible."

Ok so please tell me what you think. If people don't like it I will take it down. If they do like it I'll keep it up and update at least once a week. Incase you haven't already guessed, I'm doing chapters on the scenes on the DVD. So some might be short, some might be long. Depending on how long the scene is.

Anyway review please!

xx


	2. Chapter 2

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own, nor do I claim to own the plot line, characters or anything else regarding _Australia._ All ownership belongs to **Baz Lurhmann **and **20****th**** Century Fox. **I own nothing.

Nullah's narration – _Italics_.

Aboriginal native tongue – Spelt how I think it sounds.

Word count – 418 ~Not including A/N's~

**Australia****.**

**Chapter 2.**

_But this story not being that day. This story begin a little while ago in a land far, far away. That land called England. _

Grey clouds filtered the skies, hiding the bright yellow sun and gorgeous blue sky. Birds sang as the sound of metal shoes glabboured with a gravel pathway. Lady Ashley, with her short blonde hair pinned back into a bun under her small black hat, guided the pure white horse through the gates and slowly trotted towards a small car, to which a stubby old man emerged, obviously looking for Lady Ashley.

"My husband must sell Faraway Downs." she ordered, powerfully and firmly towards the man, the horse never ceasing to stop.

"But the offer from this cattle king, Mr Carney," he spoke back with a slight hint of worry. He waddled to attempt to keep up with the white horse that Lady Ashley had guided through the stable doors and dismounted, striding quickly towards the back entrance of the stables, "is only one-sixth of what it is worth."

"We need the money, Ramsden!" she ordered back, obviously leaving no room for argument.

"But Maitland is just about to muster the fats." Ramsden replied.

Confusion wiped across Lady Ashley's face, as she furrowed her eyebrows and squinted her eyes, not really understanding what that meant. "What?"

Smiling, Ramsden replied, hoping he would understand. "Gather the big cows ready for market."

"Ramsden," Lady Ashley started, turning, she strode away again to retrieve a cup of tea, prepared just the way she likes it, "You and I both know there is only one reason my husband has spent so much time down under. And it has absolutely nothing to do with cows. At least not of the animal variety."

Disapproving of her chosen words, Ramsden gasped, and with furrowed brows, he lowered his voice, "Lady Ashley, I...I do think that's a bit harsh."

She turned once more, and walked away, Ramsden waddling slowly behind her. "Oh, Ramsden, drink your tea."

"Lady Ashley!" he cried as she mounted a fresh horse. "What do you intend to do?"

Lightly kicking the horse to go forward, she guided it around Ramsden. "I intend to travel to this cattle station, sell it, and bring Maitland home," she guided the horse to gallop towards a small wall, where the brown mare jumped perfectly and landed with ease, "**myself**!"

"But, Lady Ashley," Ramsden pressed further, not agreeing with whatever decision she had made up in her mind, "It's Australia!"

--

Ok so this chapter is really short, but only because the scene on the film is so short. But don't worry, I'm in the middle of writing the next chapter right now (: Have no fear! And I want to thank the two reviewers who have given me the push to write more. **Max Rider **and **Lochinblu**. And also to **Simusch**, who alerted, but didn't review. Thanks you guys :D

xx


	3. Chapter 3

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own, nor do I claim to own the plot line, characters or anything else regarding _Australia._ All ownership belongs to **Baz Lurhmann **and **20****th**** Century Fox. **I own nothing.

Nullah's narration – _Italics_.

Aboriginal native tongue – Spelt how I think it sounds.

Word count – 3542 ~Not including A/N's~

**Australia.**

**Chapter 3.**

The plane journey was long and tiring. The cramped small space between her legs and the seat in front made her slightly claustrophobic. The small wooden table was pulled down, an envelope been ripped and sprawled across it. A letter from her husband.

**Darling Sarah, I implore you, do not travel. Outbreak of war imminent. STOP.**

Replying, she wrote,

**Maitland, your concern regarding war duly noted. STOP. **

To which, he replied with,

**Have plan concerning cattle. Sale to King Carney not necessary. Need more time. STOP.**

Again, she replied,

**Nonsense. STOP. Expect contract for sale of station to be drawn by time of my arrival. STOP. **

And again, he wrote,

**Cannot meet you. STOP. Am mustering. STOP. Have sent trusted man. STOP. The Drover. STOP. **

As she read the last letter on the small telegraph, her brows furrowed in curiosity as to who this stranger was. "The Drover?" she quietly questioned herself. Her blue eyes twinkled with a vast amount of curiosity. Letting out her frustration on the paper, she screwed it up and squeezed it softly between her delicate fingers. A deep breath escaped her lips, as she looked out the window towards her destination. As the clouds parted, they showed her the boat on the waterfront, puffing out black smoke and not moving.

--

A scabby, rugged man, leaning against the wooden rail at a bar, laughed. His hair was long and frizzy, like it needed a good brush, his beard was uneven and over-grown. His yellow teeth showed as a deep belly-laugh erupted from his mouth.

"Drover," he chuckled, "you boong lover." Almost as instantly as his face fell from serious to turning and laughing to someone across the room, a fist collided with his jaw, sending him flying across the floor. The barman, a long pipe in his mouth, continued to wipe a glass out as he watched the injured man struggle to get up. A mysterious figure, The Drover, looked on, standing with his weight resting on his left foot. His face completely hidden by the shadow of his hat. His eyes shining as he searched the bar for any more trouble.

"Any of you other Carney boys wanna have a go?"

His voice, deep and powerful, scared the men around him. Looking at each other, they stand still, fear struck through their veins. No way were any of them getting near him. Taking the last of his beer, he raised it to the ceiling and looked through the gap between the mug and handle, as if to pick his next opponent.

"Come on, fellas. Don't let fear stand in your way."

Slam. The mug was heavily placed on the bar stand. A drunken old man, showing no fear through his intoxicated system, raised his fists and stood in a fighting stance, swaying back and forth slowly.

"I'll have ya!" he slurred, as if to tempt Drover to step forward and take a good swing at him.

Footsteps crunched onto the wooden floors outside the bar, as a dark man waited outside, not going anywhere near the entrance. "Hey!"

The barman, one hand clutching a mug, the other with a damp cloth, pointed to the man outside, and whooshed his hand slightly to make a good point. "Hey, no boongs in here!"

The deep voice spoke up again, his frustration rippling out at the sad, pathetic rules of Australia nowadays. "He's not in the pub, Ivan."

Growling lowly, Ivan, the barman, kept his eyes on the boong outside, ready to take action if he dared enter his pub. Slowly, Drover walked towards the double swinging doors, and rested his fore-arms on the door frames, opening the doors just a little.

"Go on. Run after your boong friend," A voice teased. The guy that had been punched had obviously not got the message and was back for more. A big red mark slowly appeared on his right cheek where he had been thumped, but it would take more than that to get rid of him, "'cause as far as this town's concerned, you are a black."

Drover stopped dead in his tracks, deeply breathing, showing no sign of frustration or anger. He looked at the man outside, and let the man inside say what he had to say. He'd settle this his own way.

"You work with them, you eat with them and you sleep with them." A chesty cough erupted from the man's throat, as he looked around once more to the men, his cockiness rising with every passing minute.

"Oh, crikey."

"Man gahane, blainah" (1) The black man called, and pointed towards the low flying plane, obviously landing soon. His face torn with worry and concern for Drover.

"Yunuie gormeh" (2) The Drover spoke in the Aboriginal native tongue, not bothered by what people would say. Looking past the man outside, he sighed. His facial features never changing. Serious, yet calm. "When you see her, wave your hat."

"Buywakaway" (3) The man countered, tempting Drover to just leave it and get what he went there to get.

"Yunuie gormeh!" (2) his voice rose, slightly angered that this whole conversation was wasting precious time.

The black man just shook his head and walked backwards. Raising a finger, he pointed and shook it at Drover. "Gowah, robieh gokomah." (4) Turning, he had no choice but to go and wait for Drover to meet him.

Drover watched as he walked away, anticipating his next move. Someone was bound to say something wrong. He knew going into the bar was dangerous, yet he still went in, as if he had no care in the world. He didn't care what people thought about him. He was just as much a human as they were. Why were blacks and whites so different?

"What are you waiting for?" His voice had become more cocky, and his patience had gotten the better of him, "an invitation?"

Sighing, the Drover sightly shook his head and raised an eyebrow. "I hate comin' to town." He raised his arms off the door frames, turned and walked casually back towards the bar. Suddenly, from no-where, his fist rose and landed another great thump on the scabby man's face, knocking him back down to the ground.

--

A curiously, skinny man, standing on a balcony, looking through a telescope, much like a peeping tom, spotted something unusual and spoke to no-one in particular. "Lady Sarah Ashley." Raising, he looked over the top of his telescope, getting full view of the scene, but not seeing everything close up, "A genuine aristocrat living right here in Darwin."

"Administrator, we are at war!" A war captain stood perfectly straight, his voice booming and shockingly powerful compared to his physique. He was a short man with gelled hair and a small mustache hugging his top lip. Obviously, he was slightly angered by what the other small man was doing. "As the officer in charge of livestock purchases for the armed forces..." He spoke with slight annoyance as the other man looked through the telescope at Lady Ashley stepping off the plane and into a small boat which was to take her to shore.

"She's quite a looker!"

Oblivious to the interruption, the captain continued, "...I fail to see what Lady Sarah Ashley," Upon seeing her, his voice softened, peeking through the 'scope to see her up close. "has to do with Carney's stranglehold on the beef industry." Peeking through again, he watched as the boat took her towards the docks, her umbrella protecting her from the harsh UV rays and the blistering heat.

"Her husband, Lord Ashley," as the small man started to explain, he wandered off towards his bird cage, attempting to feed his black parrot behind the mesh fence, "claims he's mustering fats at Faraway Downs."

"Faraway Downs?" The captain questioned.

"Faraway Downs, the only cattle station in the whole of the north not owned by Leslie King Carney."

--

"Lord Maitland Ashley is mustering on Faraway Downs?" A strong Australian accent spoke. It belonged to a middle aged man, his head covered in grey hairs, rough and straw-like. He stood infront of a map, Carney Cattle standing out the most, and in the middle, a small green patch named Faraway Downs. He held a newspaper close to him. His goatie beard and mustache around his mouth showing his age the most.

"Yeah, yeah," came a reply, sounding almost like he didn't care.

"Isn't quite what we had in mind, is it, Neil?" Carney's voice boomed again, as he took the newspaper and folded it in front of himself.

"No, yeah," came the same distant reply.

"And now," Carney boomed once more, "his missus has arrived on a flying boat."

String was being tied around a flies neck, its wings trying hard to escape the clutching fingers of its captor. The string was going round, and round, and round until it was shot, but still long enough to pull apart.

"Doesn't look like they're gonna sell Faraway Downs to me, Neil." Raising a pair of binoculars to his eyes, Carney searched for Lady Ashley, attempting to et a better look at her.

"No she wont last," replied Neil, finally at full focus to what was happening around him. "A delicate English rose withers in the outback, yeah." He pulled the string tight, choking the poor insect, killing it instantly. "You with me?"

--

"As you must know," Lady Ashley said as she carefully stood on the gently rocking boat as she attempted to get onto the sturdy dock, "I am to be met by-" her voice rose, unfamiliar with the hand that had placed his hand on her bottom to give a helpful push, "-my husband's trusted man, a Mr. Drover."

"The bloody Drover?!" The sailor replied, a grin appearing on his chubby round face.

--

Thump. Thump. Thump. His fist collided with anything that got in its way. Blood smeared all over his knuckles from a broken nose or split gums.

"Hey, hey! Hey!" voices cried, but to no avail. The Drover was taken over by rage and he would stop at nothing until he brought these people down. A hand would jab his cheek every now and again, but nothing compared to his mighty punch.

--

"Bring it!" Sarah Ashley cried loudly, scared to touch anything but worried her luggage would get stolen. Cattle was being pushed onto the boat as she looked at it, disgusted by the smell and sight. Three sailors followed her carrying her bags, struggling at the weight of all of them. "Move it! Oh, terrible!" she complained, walking faster and faster to meet up with this Mr Drover and get out of there.

--

Binoculars covered Carney's eyes as he gazed at his wive and daughter ready and waiting to welcome Sarah to their home country.

"Look at my wife and daughter down there giving her the royal welcome!" he roared, a smirk forming on his chapped lips.

--

A woman with small ginger ringlets framing her small petite face. The yellow ensemble she wore brought out her cheekbones and made her skin look like it was glowing. With subtle make-up, she was a beauty.

"My fiancé, Neil Fletcher, manages Faraway Downs." she beamed proudly, the smile never leaving her face. She'd always wanted to meet Lady Ashley, and now she was standing right in front of her.

Disgusted that these people were wasting her time, resulting her having to spent more minutes smelling the cow dung or rotting food, Sarah pushed past them, grunting and moving forward swiftly. "Good day."

--

Finally, the binoculars had been removed from Carney's face, as he plonked them down and turned toward Neil.

"Bit pale," he revealed, slightly disappointed with what he saw, "Not a bad-lookin' sheila, but whats the story on the luggage?" His boots met with wood on his balcony as he walked towards the edge to retrieve his hat from whomever was holding it. "Wants to settle down in the out-back, does she?" Placing it back on his head, he caught a glimpse of Sarah struggling with her shoes, more than likely got sand or dirt in it and was trying to shake it out. "If she stays and Lord Ashley manages to get his cattle down onto that wharf there," The boong was watching, waiting for this woman he was supposed to be collecting with Drover. He saw her and raised his hat straight up into the air, signaling that she was coming, "then we've got a competitor for the Army contract, Neil."

--

"Carney's control of every station in the north jeopardizes the supply of beef to our troops." The captain spoke, Sturdy and sharp, his voice remained powerful. He paced around the skinny man, who was looking in the telescope, negotiating why Sarah Ashley had all of a sudden shown up.

--

"But it's a poor war that doesn't make a decent patriot rich." Carney's voice had remained strong. He turned towards Neil, leaning one hand against the balcony rail. "So, I don't want a single beast from Faraway Downs to set a hoof on that wharf."

Sarah's stride had not gone down a notch since stepping off the boat. She continued be stay strong, showing that she was a woman of power, and she meant business. Her face had stayed in the same position, creased eyebrows and a slight pout on her pink lips.

"You with me Neil?" Carney asked, taking a swig from his beer bottle.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Nature'll take its course." Neil smirked, thinking of the plan he'd left down below on the streets.

--

He was lifted off the ground with such force it made him stagger and grab onto something for safety. Drover grunted in pain, the arm's wrapped around his middle were digging into his ribs, and he started having trouble breathing.

"My glasses!" Ivan cried out in shock, afraid that they would break.

Being thrown over to the other side of the bar, he felt another man fall onto him, as he followed Drover's path to carry on with the fight. Raising quickly, he pounded his fist right into his cheek, knocking the man over. The fight was wearing him out, and having your ribs pushed against you didn't help at all. He was in pain, but that wouldn't stop him. Not yet anyway.

--

"What about the missus?" Carney asked.

"I've arranged for someone special to give her the old scenic route." Neil replied, back away to open the door and escape through it. "Give her a taste of the outback."

--

Smash! He broke a beer bottle over someone's head to stop them coming to get him. The Drover was running out of idea's, and running out of energy. Fast. He had to think of something to do. He was suddenly tackled from the front, the same man from before, wrapped his arms around his waist, squeezing and not letting go. The pain rushed through Drover like water being poured onto him. It was excruciating, as he cried out in pain for the man to stop. He had to grab something, anything to stop him. But what? After letting go, the Drover grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back, grunting and groaning, he used all his energy to push, to get this man away from him. Ivan, with his large, thick stick, slammed it against the bar, while the men got pushed out the back door to take it outside.

--

Out of curiosity, Carney wanted to know who was taking her around Australia. "Who's taking her?"

A smirk appeared on a Neil's face, as he glanced at King Carney from the corner of his eyes. "The Drover."

"The Drover?" Carney laughed. Unable to believe what he had heard, he had to see for himself. Picking up his binoculars, he pressed them to his face and watched the scene unfold. On one side of the bar, was the Drover being punched and chased, on the other, was Sarah Ashley, about to barge her way through the doors.

"Enjoy the ride, sweetheart." Neil laughed as he opened the door and disappeared.

--

Ivan had his back to the entrance, breathing deeply with a look of fright plastered on his face. The doors creaked open as Sarah walked in. Gasping at the sight of a drunk man at this hour, she looked around the bar only to find it empty. Walking towards the counter, the barman, still holding his club up in the air, as if to threaten the woman, walked towards her.

"I'm Sarah Ashley." She spoke. Confidence flowed through her as she took on this disgusting looking creature before her. Biker's started to rev their engine's, making it difficult to hear or speak. Black clouds of smog filled the air as Drover stumbled back into view through the window. He had one man on his back, the other in front, thumping his face.

"My husband, Lord Ashley has sent a trusted man to collect me." Sarah shouted over the noise. Ivan was too preoccupied with what was happening with Drover, and flinched at every punch. He looked between Sarah and Drover, careful to keep an eye on both of them. "A Mr. Drover." Sarah raised her hand towards her ear, hinting it was loud and she couldn't hear very well. All Ivan could do was watch the fight outside. "It seems as if he has been waylaid." Shrugging, she looked at Ivan with demanding eyes, wanting to know where this Drover was. Ivan finally snapped, and look at her.

"No women." He simply said. Lowering the club and his other free hand, he pointed to the opposite side of the bar, towards the exit. "Ladies' lounge next door."

Pulling her head back, Sarah squinted her eyes once more and gave Ivan a strange look. She didn't understand, and had trouble hearing him enough as it were.

"The hen parlor," slurred the drunk bystander, swaying every so slightly with a mug of beer in one hand, "is thataway, my dear."

"No wonder your establishment is empty." Sarah stated, oblivious to what was going on around her. She turned and walked towards the door, eager to find Drover. Turning towards Ivan once more, she looked him up and down once more, and gently pushed the doors open. "Good day."

Once she stepped outside, she witnessed her bags be caught up in a thrown body across the road, twisted and scattered gathering dust. Shrieking, she stopped dead in her path, unable to believe what is happening. A bare knuckle fist fight, her luggage surrounding the men in the brutal brawl. A ring of men had formed, giving no thought to stop, edging them on to fight. Gasping, she watched as one man picked up the biggest blue suitcase and thwomped it across the head of someone. Cheering emerged from the men as her underwear and pajama's went flying, the suitcase splitting and pouring out all its contents. Screaming, she edged closer, petrified with what was going on. The men in the ring start to notice her, and separate for her to get through and salvage whatever dignity she had left. Old women watched from a safe distance, appalled by what they saw. The men had grabbed every bra, knickers and night gown they could and shook then to get a better look. Everything was clean and perfect before they touched them. Even a dog had hold of something and was ripping it to shreds. Sarah couldn't speak, her voice lost in her throat as she looked on in horror. She watched as the only man standing in the center of the ring lifted up a small bag and smashed it over someone's head. Grunting, Drover let out whatever energy he had left and put into that last blow. Screaming, Sarah couldn't help but cry out load groans as everything was ruined. The Drover panted, glad it was over as his lungs couldn't take the lack of oxygen. He rested his hands on his knee's and threw down the broken bag, grunting and panting for air. Sweat littered his face, shoulders, back, everywhere. He didn't care, he just needed to breathe properly again.

"There, there, there. There, you drongo!" The boong man grunted, shoving his hat in the direction of the special delivery. Drover, still taking in large gulps of air, turned and faced Sarah, while she in turn looked at the remains of her suitcase.

"Oh! No, no! My Bags! No my...!" She cried out, still not believing the sight before her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she started hyperventilating. She couldn't believe it. All her dignity had just been thrown out the window. She couldn't talk, only scream. Watching as the man bent down to collect something in his hands, she exhaled and groaned, still unable to breathe.

Panting, Drover smiled, and handed her the nightie. Not that she would take it, but offering it may help get back in her good books. To no avail. Her face was screwed up as she breathed deeply. At an attempt to moisten his mouth, gulped, took a deep breath, while gathering up some gross tasting saliva and spat to his left, most likely on her nighties.

"Welcome to Australia."

--

::A/N:: (1) "Boss, plane coming."

(2) "Go down to the wharf."

(3) "Let it go!"

(4) "Don't forget, we need to money."

Ok so this took longer that expected! And I'm so tired! I started typing this at like half 9 thinking it would be over by midnight at least! No! Its now around half 4am! I'm exhausted. It was really difficult doing this chapter, mainly because of all the little scene changes in between everything else. If that makes sense?

Anyway I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think in a review

xD

xx


	4. Chapter 4

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own, nor do I claim to own the plot line, characters or anything else regarding _Australia._ All ownership belongs to **Baz Lurhmann **and **20****th**** Century Fox. **I own nothing.

Nullah's narration – _Italics_.

Aboriginal native tongue – Spelt how I think it sounds.

Word count – 2295 ~Not including A/N's~

**Australia.**

**Chapter 4.**

The scorching temperatures of the dry land was too much for Sarah to handle. The heat waves rose up from the ground. Being the only truck out there, it was hard to tell where they were headed.

_Drover take Missus Boss to Faraway Downs in a great big fancy truck!_

Sarah, being that she was used to colder climates, was dressed fully, unaware of the blistering heat. Her hat covered in a thin fabric to protect her face from mosquitoes, a pair of unflattering glasses framed her eyes, shielding her from windswept sand or dirt, preventing it from reaching her eye sockets. She looked out the window, wishing she was any place than where she was now. Drover was driving the big truck, turning from Sarah to the road, to the dog that had perched itself between Drover and Sarah, watching her every move.

_He even let her sit in his special seat. _

Turning, she glanced at Drover, who had taken a big swab of water into his mouth, swallowed, and offered the dog some refreshment.

_She even drinks Drover's own water bottle. _

"Thats it, thats it," Drover smiled. The dogs lips and tongue wrapped round the opening and obeyed her master to drink and refresh her throat. Sarah looked on in disgust. As if she would drink out of the flask. She'd much rather dehydrate than drink out of something a dog had slobbered over.

_They get along like a burning house. Now Magarri, he sit 'em up top. And Magarri's cousin Goolajibaloong, he come along for the ride. _

Goolajibaloong ran along side the truck, not that it was hard to keep up, going only around ten miles per hour. He clambered on top, with help from Magarri, sticking his foot on the open window frame, showing Sarah his crouch. Exclaiming in disgust, she shielded her eyes form the view and turned away.

_They make 'em friends right away._

Bang, bang. Drover fisted the top of the cab, to grab Magarri's attention. "Water." he boomed, as he lent across Sarah to pass his flask to an open hand. She moved slightly back, not waiting Drover to touch her with his dusty, sweaty hands.

"Thats it. Stay Jedda, stay, stay." Drover coaxed the dog to remain calm, as the movement made her think it was time to move too. Drover wrapped his free arm around the dog and pulled her towards him, keeping her at bay.

Sighing, Sarah turned to look out the window once more. She couldn't believe she was in this situation, going out all the way to Australia just to get her husband back. The Drover looked over to her, smiling at the thought that she wouldn't last a day in the outback. "'Trusted man'" she tutted, "typical of my husband."

Rolling his eyes, he looked out his window, then back out the front window, ready to rely with whatever she threw at him. "Actually, your husband's a pretty good bloke."

"Yes, well," Sarah turned and faced him, a smug smile on her face, "he certainly knows how to choose his employees."

"Employee?" Drover laughed.

"No wonder the place is bankrupt!" Sarah exclaimed, throwing her hand in the air.

"Lady, I'm not an employee."

"Really?" Sarah queried. She lifted the soft mesh from around her face and placed it atop her hat, out of her way so she could look at Drover properly, "So you're just driving me all the way out to Faraway Downs as a personal favor to my husband are you?"

Drover had to think, he furrowed his brow and wondered where she was going with this. "No."

"Him being such a good bloke and all?"

"I'm driving out there because he promised me a drove of 1,500 head of cattle." He smugly replied, returning his view to the road, or lack there of.

"Sarah was confused, she watched his every move, yet still seemed puzzled. "What, to buy?"

"No you goose to drove." Drover laughed in return, switching from the road to Sarah, explaining himself to her fully so she would understand. At least it was some sort of conversation. "I'm a drover, right? I move the cattle from A to B, alright? I work on commission. No man hires me, no man fires me."

Cattle were spread out in the road as the truck trudged along slowly. Sarah had returned from looking out the window, not really that interested in what he was saying. "Oh, thats-"

"Everything I own I can fit in my saddlebag, which is the way I like it." He interrupted. Reaching over again, Goolajibaloong had returned the flask, holding it for Drover to reach. Sarah exclaimed in fright and disgust, as she moved back and braced herself for the quick change in movement.

"Yes well, it's all...all very outback adventure isn't it?" she cried, slightly bumping her fist in mock excitement.

"I'm not saying its for everyone" Drover replied.

"No." Sarah chuckled, "Definitely not for everyone."

"Most people like to own things. You know, land, luggage, other people." He glanced at Sarah, watching her expression change from annoyed to shocked. She owned two out of the three things he said. "Makes them feel secure," Drover continued. "But all that can be taken away. And in the end, the only thing you really own is uh, is your story." He glanced at her once more, checking to see if anything he was saying is going into her mind. He rose his eyebrows, and turned back to the road. "Just trying to live a good one."

Sarah looked at him, smiling slightly and chuckled. "Yes, yes an adventure story." She turned back to look out the window again, "You sound just like my husband."

Drover looked over at Sarah once more, then sigh a big puff of air and rolled his eyes back towards the road. There was no getting through to her. She obviously wasn't paying much attention and had no idea what he had just said. Was there any point in trying to communicate with her? Well, the trip would be long and awkward without conversation. As Sarah looked completely out the window, she gasped and did a double take. "Oh!" She cried as she raised her hand to point, "Oh, they're kangaroos!"

"Big Reds."

"Lovely!" Sarah cried. She turned to Drover and smiled. Maybe this trip wasn't so worthless after all. "Beautiful!"

"Uh," Drover replied, completely thrown off guard at her reaction and sudden persona change from stiff and miserable to soft and gentle, "Yeah, beautiful."

"I've never seen a kangaroo!" Sarah cooed as she looked back out the window, "Beautiful, jumping."

"Yeah," Drover replied, glancing out the window to see the creature for himself, making sure Sarah hadn't gone completely mad, "They're jumpin'"

"Oh it's beautiful!" She cooed once more, admiring the view in front of her, "Oh, look at them jumping-"

BANG

She screamed, as the kangaroo fell limply to the ground with a bullet wound ploughed through its chest. Her voice was like scraping nails down a black board to Drover, as he had fully known what was about to happen. Lunch time! With a thud, a foot fell forward, and placed itself in full view of Sarah's side of the window. Blood trickled down the windscreen. Sarah was gob smacked. The view was unnatural to her, and she didn't like it one bit. How could someone hunt a beautiful creature like that? Drover was completely unfazed by this, being used to how Goolajibaloong hunted and cooked kangaroo. He heard Goolaj laugh to himself, happy with the success of the hunt. Or lack there of.

--

Nigh time had sprung round quicker than Sarah had expected. The night creatures stirred and make noises, as the campfire crackled away, slowly burning whatever wood it touched. Everyone was at separate parts of the camp; Magarri was on one of the seats that was placed around the fire, one of his legs draped over the arm; Goolajibaloong sorted out the freshly cleaned clothes onto a piece of robe and set it out to dry for the morning; Sarah was hidden by the material of the tent, more that likely getting ready for bed; Drover was situated just outside the camp, still in view, cleaning himself with soap and water. Finished with the soap, body covered in soap suds, Drover picked up the full bucket and raised it above his head, oblivious that Sarah had poked her head out from the opening of the tent and was staring, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. She gulped down the lump that had formed in her throat and watched as the water cascaded down his well sculpted chest and back, missing a few suds.

"Mr Drover..."

Oblivious that she had just said his name, he shook his head to rid himself of the liquid that stuck to his head and wiped his face clean. Goolaj was fortunate enough to see Sarah and called out to her. "Hey, Miss Boss!"

Magarri, being the polite one of the trio, reached out a half chewed piece of meat, probably from the kangaroo they just killed. Sarah wasn't sure, but she was certain she wouldn't be touching it with her mouth. "Tucker, Missus Boss?"

"Mr Drover." Sarah called, completely ignoring Goolaj and Magarri.

"Yeah?" Drover replied. He turned and slightly shook his head, still trying to get rid of the water.

"There's only one tent."

Drove raised an eyebrow, curious to find out if she had a point. "Thats right."

Sarah gasped. No way was she sharing with three men. Strangers no less! It was not allowed. Not in her head anyway. "For the four of us?"

"Well you know," Drover began, scratching the small of his back slightly and looked to Magarri. He winked, obviously wanting Magarri and Goolaj to play along with whatever he was planning, "It gets pretty chilly here at night, we like to bunk up together, eh, Magarri? Goolaj? Huh?" he started to wrap his arms around himself, and hinted for the others to do the same. "Nice and close, you know?" The boys got up and jumped up and down, proving that it would be cold later in the night and would have to share the tent. Sarah was mortified. She couldn't believe it! She looked from Drover to Magarri to Goolaj and gasped. Goolaj gave the game away when he hid teasingly behind a shirt and laughed his goofy laugh. All this excitement made Jedda bark and want to join in the fun, though she had no idea what was going on. Sarah exclaimed in disgust and annoyance and hid back in the tent, wiping the material together to shut the makeshift door.

"Oh, come on Lady Ashley," coaxed Drover, "We're just havin' a laugh." Jedda was still barking, still excited about what was happening around her. Goolaj and Magarri retreated to the fire, sitting comfortably to relax for the night. "Never really slept in a tent in our lives!" The Drover continued, trying hard to persuade Sarah to come out. He shoved his toothbrush into his mouth, preparing himself to brush his teeth before sleeping, which made his speech full and crunchy like, "We just bunk around the fire, see?"

Sarah peeked through a hole she made in the doorway, as if checking to see if it really was Ok to come out. She didn't really know these men, so how could she trust them?

The Drover chuckled at her, as he approached the tent to help coax her out. "See we're not really used to-"

"A woman?" Sarah challenged. She stepped right out of the tent, her silk pyjamas shone with a mixture of the moonlight and the came fire. A towel of some sort was draped over her left wrist. Jedda ceased barking and watched Sarah's every move. Much like in the truck. "I suppose you think I should be back in Darwin," Sarah challenged, "at the church fete, or the ladies'...uh...whatever you call it." Drover continued to walk closer to her, listening intently to her every word. He stopped dead in his tracks when he got within arms length of her. "Well I will have you know that I am as capable as any man." Sarah continued, Finished with her rant. Her pride never letting her down.

"Guests." Drover spoke simply. "We're not used to guests. Thats what I was about to say." He raised his eyebrows, laughing inside at her for her false accusations and her face as it dropped at the realization of her being wrong. "But, now that you mention it, I happen to quite like the women of the outback." Shoving his toothbrush in his mouth again, he slowly scrubbed, watching as Sarah's expression change dramatically.

"But, they're mostly native women."

Magarri, not feeling offended or threatened, stopped what he was doing and turned to Drover, ready to support him with whatever he would reply back with.

"Aboriginal women." Drover said simply, correcting Sarah with pride. His face showed annoyance, as again he disliked the separation of skin colour. "They're very easy to, uh..." he stretched his stomach muscles, releasing some pressure of the top of his trousers, showing his pelvic bone and raising it back up again. He watched as Sarah looked down with curiosity and looked straight back up again once she figured out what he was doing, "to get along with, if you try."

Sarah had trouble breathing. He had that affect on her and she hadn't known him that long. Her eyes fluttered open and shut as she took deep breaths to calm her rapidly beating heart. Drover looked on concerned, but smiled, showing Sarah he had no problem with admitting he 'got on' with the Aboriginal woman.

--

::A/N:: Ok, I am so sorry for the lateness, I've just been oober busy and a got a slight cold but I am back. I'll probably write the next chapter tomorrow, as its late and my lack of sleep has really caught up with me. I just want to thank **Max Rider** for your continuous reviews. You seem to be the only person reviewing. Oh well. I'm happy. It would be worse with no one reviewing! Ok now I'm rambling! Haha not good.

So yeh tell me what you think.

XD

x


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